Chapter 9
Elizabeth
"We'll take it," Caden said.
"I knew you'd love it." Susan Taylor's eyes glowed in triumph. She'd been trying to shift what she saw as a white elephant for over a year, everyone in town knew it, but there was no way Sundown Sands' only realtor would have expected such an easy sale.
"We haven't even looked at all of the rooms," I cautioned, sliding my feet over the cracked linoleum covering the floor in the 1970's kitchen. "They could be filled with mold and mouse droppings. Critters could have made their homes in the walls." Despite the butterflies doing the side shuffle inside my belly, I wouldn't get excited or show how much I wanted the house.
"I want this to be our home," Caden said. "I can see a forever here. Can't you?"
For effect, he reached for my hand and squeezed. Susan practically melted onto the floor into a puddle of goo. I didn't blame her, because if he kept holding my hand, I would end up in a puddle of goo, too. Caden Gallagher judged his audience well and knew exactly how to work them.
"Forever's a long time," I said. "Let's not get carried away."
The place needed more work than I had originally thought. Weather-worn shutters hung off peeling frames. The siding was chipped and flaked, and a lot of the boards were missing, but it still felt and smelled like home—my home. At a million and a half, the cost was a million and a half over my budget of nothing. Divorcing Caden would be much easier than leaving Cliffside Cottage. Perhaps I could renegotiate so I would get the house when our contract ended.
Maybe I could build a cottage for my dad out back. A place where he could live without worry. He would fight me every step, but if he needed constant care, I wouldn't give him a choice.
Now who was getting ahead of themselves?
As soon as we were finished viewing the house, I would go back to the hospital and tell my dad all about my plans. I'd stopped by this morning, but he wasn't awake. He hadn't been awake anytime I've visited him. The suspicious part of me wondered if he was pretending to sleep, so he wouldn't have to talk to me.
"Happy," Caden asked, nudging my shoulder.
The butterflies were now weaving their way around my belly in a conga line.
"There's a lot of work to do before we can call it a home. Painting." I ran my hand over the bumps on the lilac walls. "Most of the plaster needs replaced, and I think the floors. I'm not sure if we have the time."
"Nonsense," Susan said. Her shrill voice gave away her panic. Losing a sale this big wasn't an option. "You have a good eye. Everyone thinks that." The way her eyes darted up and down my black suit suggested no one thought that. "The décor in the club is very…tasteful."
If Susan was handing out compliments, she must be desperate.
"I'll make sure to tell granny Beaufort you like her style the next time I see her."
Caden slid an arm around my waist like it belonged there. I glanced down. How had I not noticed his squared-off fingertips, or the small tufts of hair covering his knuckles? He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and I closed my eyes to savor the sensation. If only this were real, and we were in love and were about to buy our forever home.
"This one's afraid to show how much she loves it," he said to Susan, "but I can tell she does, when she's excited or anxious, she nibbles on the inside of her lip."
Did I still do that? I hadn't even noticed. It was one of the few self-soothing habits leftover from my childhood.
"It'll make an excellent family home," Susan gushed hugging a pink clipboard to her chest. "When's the big day?" she looked at me expectantly. "How did you manage to keep everything so secret? I didn't hear a single whisper about you having a boyfriend never mind another fiancé. How do you manage to snag so many attractive men? You'll have to share your secret."
"We're getting married next week," Caden said, squeezing my waist. "It's been a bit of a whirlwind. No big secret. When you know, you know, and we know."
"Yes," I murmured, "when you know you know. And it seems we both know, y'know."
"How romantic," Susan said and gave a manic smile. "I'm glad you've found someone. After what happened last time with…" She paused and looked at me for help, but I wasn't going to give any.
"With?" I asked, not caring if I made her uncomfortable. At least this year the sewing circle, of which Susan was the head seamstress, would gossip about me getting married and not about my husband leaving me.
"Doesn't matter. Ancient history." Susan glanced at her watch. "Would you look at the time. It's too late to file the paperwork today, but once the mortgage is approved, the house is yours."
"No mortgage needed," Caden said. "We're buying with cash. Don't want to start the rest of our lives in debt, do we, Lizzie?"
"No, I guess not."
He said it so casually as if handing over a million and a half on a house that needed at least two hundred grand in repairs was something he did every day.
I glanced at him and saw the gleam in his eye. He wasn't splashing the cash because he loved the house. He was looking at the land through a developer's eye.
A boulder-sized stone of disappointed dropped into my stomach and killed the dancing butterflies. As soon as we divorced, he would most likely rip down the house and build something that would make him money. There would be no happily ever after in Cliffside Cottage for me.
"Do you mind if we stay for a while longer?" Caden asked Susan. "I'd loved to walk around and get a feel for the place. Talk about where we're going to put the nursery."
Susan's eyes dropped to my stomach.
I elbowed Caden in the ribs. "Don't listen to a word that comes out of his charming mouth. He's trying to be funny and not succeeding."
Susan tittered out a laugh, her hand fluttering to her throat. Caden had her wrapped around his little finger.
"I wouldn't normally, but I like you," she said, handing Caden the key. "Put it in the lock box when you're done."
"Will do. Cheers."
We walked Susan to her car, and as soon as she drove away, I turned to Caden.
"What the hell was all that about?"
"What?" he looked genuinely perplexed.
"The PDA. Kissing me on the head, dragging me against you. The making her think I was pregnant."
"You want to make it believable, don't you? You know it'll be all over town by this afternoon."
"My sisters. My mom. Jesus fucking Christ. I haven't told any of them I'm getting married. They're going to kill me and will probably disown me."
"I'm sure they won't kill or disown you."
"Is that so, Mr. Know It All?" I jabbed my fingertip into his rock-hard chest. "One of my sisters owns a bridal store. She lives and breathes weddings. My mother is romantic to the last cell in her body."
Icy wind whipped at my hair, sending tendrils across my face. The dense, dark clouds threatening a downpour all morning decided now was a good time to open up. Rain lashed down, but neither of us moved toward the house for shelter.
"My other sisters will want to know why I kept you a secret." I paced back and forth, not caring that my clothes now stuck to my skin. "We need to come up with a plausible story as to why we don't have a ring and why we didn't tell anyone. And on top of that, everyone will think I'm a heartless bitch. My dad is in the hospital, and here I am buying a house with a man no one knows. A man I don't even know."
"Your dad knows me. You know me, sort of. That's enough."
"You have no clue how small town gossip works, do you."
His eyes darkened to the color of the sky. "I know firsthand. And as for a ring—." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wine colored box, "—I was going to wait until later to give you this, but here." He thrust the box in my direction.
"How very romantic of you. I've always dreamed of having an engagement ring thrown at me in the pouring rain."
Rain continued to pelt down, sideways now, soaking my hair and plastering my clothes to my skin. With shaking hands, I opened what felt like Pandora's Box. Nestled inside white satin sat a crystal-clear solitaire set in a white-gold setting. If I'd had any say on my engagement ring, I would have chosen something just as elegant and understated. It wasn't flashy. It was perfect.
"Do you like it?"
Did I hear a hint of hope in his voice? Not wanting the shiny bauble to hypnotize me any further, I snapped the box shut. "Doesn't matter if I like it or not."
"But it does, Lizzie. It matters very much." He took the box from my hand and fell onto the slick mud covering the ground.
"How many times do I have to tell you, it's Elizabeth, and you're an idiot. Get up. It's raining, in case you haven't noticed."
"You wanted a story. I'm giving you one." He cleared his throat, opened the box, and thrust it toward me in a dramatic gesture. "Elizabeth Anne Beaufort, will you give me the honor of being my fake wife?"
Peels of laughter fell from me. Everything about him being down on one knee was a combination of the cutest, stupidest, and sexiest thing I'd ever seen.
If his were a real proposal, how would I act? Would I scream? Flail my arms? Fall to the ground beside him? Or would I cup my hand over my mouth in disbelief?
For a moment, just a brief moment, would it be so bad to believe everything was real? That a man, a hot man who didn't seem like he'd escaped from a mental institution, was asking me to spend the rest of my life with him? That someone found me worthy of love?
Rain dripped from his eyelashes and trickled down his face. "You know how to keep a man waiting, Lizzie."
For once, I didn't correct him. "Caden whatever your middle name is Gallagher. I will give you the honor of being your fake wife."
"It'uc s Joseph."
He slipped the ring onto my finger. It fit, but I shouldn't have been surprised. Caden wasn't the kind of man who left things to chance.
"Can I call you Lizzie?"
"You're going to call me it anyway, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Then, fine."
When he stood, he tugged me into his arms and swung me around. My hands found their way to his shoulders, and I hung on, happy to be lost in the moment, happy to be here with him. His smile was wide and filled with joy, but he didn't fool me. He was relieved, not happy.
He lowered me to the ground. His skin and clothes were as soaked as mine, and his shirt stuck to every inch of his skin. The smell of fresh rain and the ever-present scent of the ocean intermingled with the delicate notes of his cologne. If I could bottle the blend, I could make a fortune.
"I'll be the best fake husband you'll ever have."
"You can't be any worse than the last one. At least you admit you're fake. The other one just pretended he loved me."
He pressed his forehead against mine, and said, "Let's get out of the rain. See if we can find a way to dry off. I spotted a dryer in the laundry room."
He scooped me up like I weighed less than a bag of sugar and squelched through the muddy driveway to what would soon be our home.
"Put me down." I kicked my legs and wriggled to get free.
"If you don't stop kicking, we'll both fall, and we'll have muck in places muck should never be."
Once we reached the porch, he lowered me, and I gazed over the horizon.
"Is it weird that I love a rainy day? Something about it relaxes me." I clasped my arms in front of my body and shivered. I wanted to add there was something about being with him that relaxed me more than any rainstorm could.
He lifted my hand and entwined his fingers with mine. My ring sparkled in the subdued light. Seeing it on my finger every day would take a lot of getting used to. After the last time, I swore I'd never put a ring on my finger again.
"You make the ring look beautiful," he whispered.
"A gnarled fisherman's hand would make this ring look beautiful."
"Take the compliment, Lizzie." He brushed a wet tendril of hair from my forehead. "Would you ever think about going back to your natural color? If I were a betting man, I'd bet you'd be even more of a knockout as a blonde."
I swallowed hard. He was so close I could taste him.
"It's crossed my mind a few times, but I've been a brunette for so long, I'm not sure I'd recognize myself any other way."
"Think about it." He opened the front door and stood back, gesturing for me to enter. "Let's get inside. You're freezing."
I ducked past him into the silent house, but before I got very far, he wrapped an arm around my stomach.
"You always smell delicious." He pressed his lips to the back of my head, and I did nothing to stop him. "Like the first day of summer. Like the beginning of something new."
"I make my own perfume. Neroli from orange blossoms and vetiver from grass found in India. They balance each other out. One's a top note. The other's a base note." I was babbling, but I couldn't seem to help it. Next, I'd recite the plant's properties and their chemical compositions.
He stepped in front of me, and I swallowed hard. I should walk away from this, from him. Find my family and explain before they heard about my upcoming marriage from the town crier.
"Ever since our kiss last night," he said, his voice heavy and raspy. "I've thought of nothing else. I shouldn't want you this much. It wasn't part of my plan, but I can't help it."
"Then don't. Kiss me."
His eyes flashed. "There can be nothing between us. I'm not looking for that kind of relationship. What we have isn't real. Can never be real." He brushed his lips back and forth over my forehead.
"I know," I replied in a whisper. "Maybe if we get this, whatever this is, out of our systems we can go back to normal."
"If you're sure."
"I'm very sure." If he didn't kiss me in the next second, I would tackle him to the floor, pin his hands above his head and give him no other choice except kissing me.
"On a scale between one and ten, how sure."
"Stop talking and just kiss me."
His lips swept over mine, but he didn't kiss me. A frustrated moan fell from my lips. The teasing had to stop. I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his, and as soon as I did, my body vibrated and wouldn't stop.
Caden broke our kiss and stepped away.
"Why'd you stop? I thought we were getting this out of our systems?"
"Your phone," he said.
"My phone?"
"Your phone's vibrating."
"Oh." I dug my hand into my jacket pocket and grabbed my phone. "This is Elizabeth," I said when I answered.
"Ms. Beaufort, this is Melinda. Your dad's fully awake and is asking for you."
While my dad was lying in a hospital bed, I was busy tangling tongues with a practical stranger. A few minutes more, and my clothes would've been flung all over the hallway. I was the worst daughter in the world and deserved to get struck by lightning.
"I'm on my way." I hung up and moved toward the door.
"Is everything okay?"
"My dad's awake."